Onyx to Crimson
by ScarletDrizzle
Summary: "The darkness had faded from her red locks, but will it ever leave her the same? Willow can feel the wounds where black veins once ran, far too deep to ever heal..." In the fresh hours after Grave, Willow faces the pain of losing a lover and losing her soul all in one go. Sitting in the embrace of friends she came so close to killing, she decides what she wants the future to hold.


**A/N:** Don't worry, I'm still working steadily on _Red_ , expect an update by this weekend. But in the mean time, this was a small little scene I started a while ago and I figured I'd just clean up and finish it. Should be noted that Tara's a blonde in this, even though I usually write her as a brunette.

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 **Onyx to Crimson**

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She couldn't stop the shaking.

She realized this only through the rhythmic brush of red hair against her cheeks, and the coolness of tears that traveled down in harmony with her trembles. She couldn't tell how obvious it was, really. The world around her was just a blur, a mix of reality with memories of the past 24 hours. But the memories always won over, playing in her head like a VCR tape stuck on fast forward, effortlessly looping back to the start after every run. Her eyes were transfixed to the screen in her mind, the thoughts of pain consuming her. Both the pain she'd felt and what she'd delivered onto…

No, she couldn't think his name.

The shaking got worse, merging into some form of rocking. In the back of her mind, she felt a blanket carefully being put over her curled up form, but it did nothing but smother her further into darkness. A strange strangled sound met her ears when she realized the soft fabric smelled of her, of them. That musky, earthy scent with hints of jasmine, usually enough to spread warmth and contentment throughout her body, but now only making her shiver from things other than the cold.

"Will?" a soft voice whispered from what felt like a world away. Willow closed green eyes she didn't recall opening, letting herself be pulled from the looping memories still playing in her head, currently stuck on a forest she was not keen to revisit. The voice made its reappearance, the warmth and tenderness in it reigniting the faintest hope that it could somehow be _her_. That the gruesome tape of memories that relentlessly played behind her eyelids was all just in her head, and that any second now, she would feel Tara's touch, telling her it was all over. If she could just wait a little longer, just reach for it, she would hear that voice again, breathing life back into her. Telling her this was just a dream, a hallucination, a nightmare… She felt a hesitant hand touch her shoulder, and realized just how violent her shakes were as it gently clutched to help stabilize it. A familiar urge to pull away from the contact nearly overwhelmed her, but all that resulted was a weak flinch. "I've got some hot chocolate for you, Will…"

"Tara?" She called out into the ether, eyes still desperately shut. And for the first time she could recall, she felt a button on the VCR snap autonomously, pausing the tape in place. But even as the fire of hope continued to lick at her insides, she already knew the answer before it left Buffy's lips. "Of course…" She mumbled to herself with a sorry smile, the momentary silence of her mind broken. She was a fool to hope the world could be that forgiving, that considerate. Especially to someone who deserved nothing but the gunk that collected at the bottom of the barrel. She powerlessly turned back to the familiar face now playing through her mind: Dawnie's doe-eyes looking at her in a mix of terror and concern as she cowered back from the woman she might have considered close to a mother. As always, she wanted nothing but to look away. Which was precisely why she couldn't.

The continued humming of the voice above her, Buffy, ultimately fueled her to urge her eyes open again. And for just a few seconds, the haunting images playing in her mind dissolved, and the world came into focus. The couch, looking devoid of life underneath her; the cup of steaming hot chocolate on the table in front of her, begging to be devoured; familiar figures standing in the distance. She looked up at the Slayer next to her, the woman she had once had the privilege to call a friend. Now, she could hardly bare to look at that face without letting her mind return to the rage and hatred that had consumed her in their last meeting. Bruises and punches given in the place of tight embraces. Harsh words aiming to draw blood where there should have been soft cries and murmurs of grief.

As she continued to stare listlessly, letting the fresh images fade behind the color of the real world, she noticed the Slayer had changed. Her bruises less purple, her cuts healing, and a smile on her face that made Willow want to crawl into the Earth at its undeservedness. She also noticed the Slayer was crying. Not Willow-crying, but teary... the kind of silent tears that came effortlessly, and never seemed to run out. Willow's eyes focused back on the fading bruises, a distant section of her mind involuntarily busying itself with scientific calculations. It seemed that the real world had gone by far faster than she felt it had. Willow was almost confused by that prospect. If the relentless playback that refused to leave her mind at peace was the punishment she so thoroughly deserved, she would have expected time to slow instead. To trap her in the viscous void that remained of her mind. But instead the world had seemed to speed past her. Instead, she found herself being waiting on by the faces she had once been happy to extinguish. A sudden rush of pain and guilt flooded her chest, filling the void and immediately leaving her to miss its emptiness. They were waiting for her. Even now. _Now_ , after she…

"Will, no, shh." Buffy whispered soothingly, the hand that clasped her shoulder quickly turning into an arm giving a half-hug. "It's going to be ok, Will." The Slayer continued, and Willow realized her shakes had turned themselves into sobs as she felt a small hand rubbing soothingly at her side to calm her down. But the motion only served to worsen the sobs through its kindness. "You're stronger than this, Willow, I know you are. We're here with you, ok?" She felt movement beside her as Buffy settled down close to her side, her hug becoming more tight and two-armed, softening some of the shaking. Willow could feel moisture starting to touch her shoulder through the fabric of her shirt. "When you're feeling like it, I want you to drink that okay? I put some herbs in there to calm you down." Buffy continued to whisper soothingly, straining to keep her voice level where it sook, holding onto the redhead to her like she was clutching for dear life. Willow thought she felt the lightest of tremors coming from the blonde too, a rhythm so different from her own. "You're gonna be ok…" Buffy's breath urged as it lightly ticked at Willow's neck, "I know you, you're so strong… We can get through this."

But Willow fiercely doubted that. All of it. She doubted she could ever be anything other than the broken mess she was, let alone come close to being ok. There was nothing left of her to attempt to get through anything, and not nearly enough strength to even pretend to be strong. She was gone. Shattered into millions by the cruelty of the world and herself. Buffy would argue that they could bring the pieces together one by one, that there was hope, with time and maybe some crazy glue. But Buffy didn't understand. Willow could feel the cracks in her now where veins had once been, and the emptiness of missing pieces, too many to form much of anything with the rest. There were gaping holes too deep to seal; one filled with nothing but thoughts of soft blue eyes and the silky texture of blonde hair, the other where her soul had once rested, before being thrown away in a fit of rage and madness. Holes that were only creeping wider, threatening to burn their way through whatever remained of her spirit.

Nothing was going to be ok. And even if she stayed a redhead for the rest of her life, she would never be the Willow that didn't welcome the thought of the world ending around her…

"Buffy?" She asked in what was barely above a hoarse croak, her mind too exhausted to pay attention to haunting images of blood on white shirts that now crawled through her mind. The rubbing of her shoulder intensified in response to her call, and Buffy answered back with a soft smile. To Willow, the smiles were almost more painful than the images in her head, as her mind contrasted them with the expressions of horror and disgust that had once adorned the same features. "Will you do something for me?" She finally managed, her mind utterly defeated even as her body relaxed its shaking. Buffy beamed at her brightly with teary eyes as she nodded emphatically, and Willow felt another figure sit down next to her, accompanied by Xander's soft and excited voice urging her to name her wish. She could hear the smile on his lips, and the hope dripping from his voice. She assumed this was the first coherent sentence that had left her lips in however long she had been sitting here, aside from her early screams of horror and denial. She felt her heart clench at that, knowing this would only make it harder for them. But she had made up her mind now. Or whatever was still left of it.

"Take me… Take me back to her, Buff." The plea came.

Smiles dropped, and looks of pain and sad sympathy appeared, followed closely by a muffled sob from the only blonde that remained in Willow's life.

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 **A/N:** I think this was initially meant to be a longer project actually recounting all of Willow's (darker) recovery, but I felt content with it as it was by the time I finished, so no plans on doing that. Also, good God, it's emotionally draining to write... Still, I feel like the early hours/days between _Grave_ and _Lessons_ are important to explore since the show kinda just jumps around the whole thing...

Some shameless plugging:   
If you're interested in a alive-Tara and enjoyed Willow being a little evil (in any of its versions), I have a longer W/T series going on that goes in a whole other direction with Willow when it comes to darkness. A split second of recklessness (in late S6) results in Willow being turned, and the Scoobies deal with the emotional ramifications of grieving for and readying to stake the same person. Expect unhealthy dosages of a different Vamp Willow, Willow and Tara complications and angst, but _eventually_ a happy end! ~ _**Red**_

 **Feel free to review and let me know your thoughts. Feedback's always appreciated and encourages me to keep my keyboard tip-tapping!**


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